


A Haircut

by Abra_ca_fuck_you



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: FatT Rarepair Swap, Hadrian is a matchmaker, I don't know how to describe dog behaviors because ive only ever had a dog, I spell his name Thorondir because I like how it looks better n also thats hwat it was originally, M/M, This is pure fluff, so i feel bad but also fluff is always good yeah?, which isn't exactly what i was asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 17:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abra_ca_fuck_you/pseuds/Abra_ca_fuck_you
Summary: It doesn't really... get hot in Auniq. Or even warm. Thorondir and Kodiak are woefully unprepared for High Sunday, and Fero tries to help.tries.





	A Haircut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThunderstormsandMemories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/gifts).



> This was written for s_artemisios for the rarepair swap. I didn't quite match zeir requests, but i hope the fluff will warm zeir heart anyways. At the moment I don't have anything planned per se, but i definitely have more ideas for this ship (And the role Hadrian plays in it, as their mutual friend/matchmaker/best man (Who am I kidding Fero is already married and its to the mountain))
> 
> If it drives people really nuts i may change the spelling of Thorondir's name, but as it stands... i ljust like this spelling better.

The stone paths of Hieron nearly seared Fero’s feet through the thin soles of his slippers. The box he carries under his arm is just a touch too large to be carried comfortably, and the sweat that accumulates on the cool wood causes it to slip in his hands. The condensation gathers in the engravings on the dark wood, too extravagant for an ice box, Fero thinks.

He mostly stays under the shelter of awnings, as he navigates the barely familiar city, following directions provided by Hadrian.

“I think you two have a lot in common…” Hadrian said, “And I don’t think they really have High Sunday where he’s from. It’s.. cold there,” Hadrian shifted in his seat, “I’m going to busy all week but… I think he could use the company.”

Fero had the feeling, sitting in that cafe, that there was more to Hadrian’s request. It was strange enough for them to be catching up like this. Maybe it was concern for Thorn-whatever that motivated Hadrian to invite him out. Fero didn’t care, he was always down for a free meal.

Thorondir has a small apartment in one of the many shitty parts of Velas. The hardwood floors in the lobby have long since lost all their shine, and so has the grumpy fellow with a newspaper. Fero ignores them and walks straight for the stairs. Fero knocks on the door marked 23, and leans the box against the wall.

Thorondir’s expecting him of course, but he can hardly pull himself from the daybed to open the door. He has to navigate around the pile of fur that is Kodiak, flopped belly up on the ground.

“Fero?” Thorondir looks clear over his head at first, before redirecting back down to make eye contact.

He’s tall, as expected, nearly as tall as Lem, Fero guesses. But Fero hadn’t expected the outfit, a simple cotton tunic, reminiscent of the ones worn by halfling children this time of year.

“The very same.”

Practically underclothes. Not that Fero has ever cared for social convention, he’s already kicking off his shoes. Thorondir smiles and remembers to step aside, letting Fero in. The apartment only has the great room and a bathroom, and every window is thrown open. He shakes his head as he foists the box upon Thorondir, going to the window.

“There’s not enough wind to have your windows open, it’d be better to close your curtains and keep the sun out,” Fero says, going on tiptoes to close the window. Kodiak chirrups at him in greeting as he walks past.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. What’s in this box?” Thorondir asks.

“Ice,” Fero says, throwing a blanket over the window.

“Oh I can’t accept this!” Thorondir says, carrying the box back to Fero.

“No worries, you’ll be fixing me a drink too, anyways,” Fero brushes him off, having stolen the ice box from behind the bar of the inn Lem is staying in. He moves to the next window, gesturing at Thorondir to help him with the curtains that had been torn down. Thorondir feels strange about it, but Fero doesn’t even bat an eye at being lifted off his feet. They close and cover the next three windows together, and Kodiak perks up, rolling over onto his stomach.

“Better, yeah?” Fero asks Kodiak, petting his ears and settling next to him on the ground. Kodiak sighs in response.

“It definitely is,” Thorondir says. He carries the ice box to the kitchen and starts chipping at the ice.

“You really don’t know how to handle the heat,” Fero says, rubbing Kodiaks ear between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Why do you say that?” When Thorondir reaches up to grab some glasses from a cabinet, his tunic rides up to reveal several more inches of thigh

“Well you’re hardly dressed, for one,” Fero says, “not that I mind…” he adds, only for Kodiak’s ears. “But poor Kodiak can’t take off any of his clothes.”

Thorondir turns around, the ice in the glasses clinking, and sees Fero lying down beside Kodiak, his small hand buried in the dark fur. “What do you mean?”

“Most furry creatures shed some of their fur in the spring to prepare for the summer, but it’s always cold whe-”

“I know what shedding is. I’m the Ranger,” Thorondir says, sitting beside Fero. He sets the glass on the opposite side of Fero from Kodiak.

“Yeah, and I know what it’s like to shed, Ranger,” he pulls his hand away, and strokes down Kodiak’s spine again, “Unfortunately, he doesn’t.”

Thorondir sips his drink, holding back his grimace as he realizes he made it a bit too strong, “So what’s your suggestion, oh Knowledgeable One?”

Fero looks into the middle distance, and takes a long sip of the orange drink. “Haircut.”

“What?”

“We cut his hair,” Fero says, reaching for the knife on his belt.

Thorondir imagines Kodiak with a mohawk running all the way down his spine, “No!” he says, lunging over Fero put a hand over his knife. “No.”

Fero holds his hands up in surrender, and when Thorondir doesn’t move he says, “Not that I don’t love having you draped over me, but you’re like a fireplace. Lying on top of me. Days before High Sunday.”

Thorondir sits up awkwardly, a strange blush rising in his blue toned cheeks. “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to… make him look stupid.”

Fero rolls his eyes, and retrieves the knife from it’s complementary sheath. “I wouldn’t make him look stupid,” he says, turning the blade over in his fingers, “I’m actually very talented with a knife.”

“I’m not afraid you’ll make a mistake, I’m afraid you’ll make him look stupid on purpose,” Thorondir says, reaching for the knife. Fero leans back, managing to hold it just out of reach, despite their height difference. So Thorondir clambors back on top of him, and plucks the knife from his hand.

It’s prettier than it is sharp, which seems unlike Fero to carry, although Thorondir may just not know him that well. The handle is bound in a fine dark leather, and the etchings in the bronze catch the low light. Flowers and vines, and what might even be writing.

“Where did you get this?” Thorondir asks, holding the knife up.

“A tower.” Fero crosses his arms, “You can do it then, if you don’t trust me. I just think he needs a trim if he’s going to make it through the week.

* * *

The next day, when the clouds furrow overhead, and the mix of rain and snow start to fall, Thorondir curses Fero under his breath.

* * *

 

Thorondir is a bit disarmed by how Fero watches him, his face, and his hands. He must just be concerned for Kodiak, of course. That’s why Fero is absent mindedly running his fingers through Kodiak’s mane, and staring at Thorondir’s brow. The strange blush is back, wrapped around the ends of his ears and down his neck. Fero notices that his lips are the same shade of indigo.

Thorondir distracts him by talking about the Mark, but by the end of it Fero seems just as confused as Thorondir is, so Fero tells stories of his own.

“So then the captain said ‘So we meet again,’ except his voice is all gurgly with blood because Hella cut his head off like two months ago”

Thorondir furrows his brow, “How was he talking if Hella cut his head off?”

“By holding his neck shut, duh”

* * *

 

Two days later, Fero turns up at Thorondir’s door with a sweater borrowed from Hadrian draped over his arm. It’s yellow and red, stitched with a pattern of sun rays, crowns, and hammers.

Thorondir seems tired, partially because of the blanket thrown over his shoulders, partially because of the bags under his eyes. But he smiles at Fero, and steps aside to let him in. Fero strides confidently to Kodiak, curled up in a ball on the foot of the bed.

“I brought a sweater for hm, cause i was the one who got rid of his natural one,” Fero says, as he sits beside Kodiak on the bed. Thorondir smiles as Fero pulls a paw gingerly through a sleeve.

When Kodiak’s head pops out the collar, he licks across Fero’s face, and Fero doesn’t even flinch.

Kodiak fills out Hadrian’s sweater well, although Thorondir isn’t too happy with him being covered in religious symbols. Fero fluffs out Kodiak’s mane to cover his shoulders.

“I knew you’d make him look stupid,” Thorondir says, going to sit beside Fero.

“He looks fucking adorable,” Fero says. He takes one of Kodiak’s huge paws in his hand. He has little clumps of fur sticking out from between his toes.

“Well he’s not supposed to be adorable. He’s fierce,” Thorondir says, leaning over Fero to point out Kodiak’s teeth, bared as he yawns, “He’s a scary mountain boy.”

Fero hums, “just like me then,” and he leans on Thorondir’s shoulder.

Thorondir is startled at first, but then relaxes into the contact, “I’d hardly call you scary.”


End file.
